


Curly Cats

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: The generators are out. What's a guy to do when he still wants beautiful curled hair?
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Curly Cats

The night that the second generator for the 4077th gave up its ghost, BJ Hunnicutt and Benjamin Franklin Pierce returned to the Swamp to find a most interesting tableau. 

The tent was lantern-lit, the shadows curled into the corners like black cats. 

Charles sat on his cot, book opened beside his knees. Maxwell Q. Klinger was on his stomach, stretched out, face in the mattress. Using the hand he wasn’t turning pages with, Charles was shaping curls into his dark hair. 

Hawkeye rose up on his toes in glee. “Oh, _ gentlemen _ , care to explain?”

Charles didn’t even look up, fingers swimming in soft, dark, thick currents that made him hunger for toast with fresh black raspberry jam.

Klinger murmured something, but he did it without lifting his head. His shoulders rose up as Charles pressed his thumb into the back of his neck. Such a touch didn’t actually have anything to do with the hairdo Charles was helping to create in the young man’s hair, but he’d discovered how much Klinger liked it. 

Hawk placed a hand to his ear and leaned in with that infectious grin of his. “What’s that?”

Klinger lifted his head, though not without a certain measure of reluctance. “The Major’s helping me out, sirs.”

“Sure looks like. Hot date, Klinger?”

Charles did something that made Max press himself further into the mattress to sustain it - those fingers in his hair were delicious - even as he made a noise of disappointment at the captains. 

Klinger turned his head against the mattress. “Sentry duty.”

“You trying to win over the other side, being that pretty?”

“Trying not to throw up from being scared. Then the power went out, so no curling iron. Get it?”

He did, except for the part where the Corporal would enlist  _ Winchester _ … and the part where Charles actually agreed. He hadn’t even known the two were friends and here they were, looking quite cozy. He decided to try something. 

“I can take over for you if you want, Charles. My evening’s free.”

Two pair of eyes flicked up at him. Klinger’s were easiest to read; the Corporal wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. If put into words, the expression there might have gone, “Aw, sir, how come? How often do I get anything good and you’re gonna ruin it just for something to _ do _ ?” 

But it wasn’t Klinger who Pierce was interested in reading anyway. He’d seen evidence of the Corporal’s interest before, though he’d dismissed it as puppy love, a crush on someone so far out of reach there was no harm in it. All of the sudden, it seemed like it might mean more than that. 

As for Charles… those eyes had become reptilian in their fixedness - and very cold. 

_ What  _ **_are_ ** _ you protecting, Chuckles?  _

Usually, Pierce would have defaulted to believing that Charles was looking after himself. But maybe not this time. 

“Much as I appreciate your generosity, Pierce, I am nearly finished.” He paused then. This wasn’t how he had intended to make his feelings known to Maxwell, but he thought the Corporal might like it, inelegant as it was. “And I would see every one of your fingers in splints, Captain, before I saw them in Maxwell’s hair.” 

The tent went beautifully quiet. 

Charles continued to create what Klinger had taught him were “curly cats,” - small, tight curls Max had first started making in the hair of his baby cousins. “Finis, my dear.”

Klinger raised himself up, staring into Charles' eyes, trembling. “Thanks, Major.” 

“Anytime.” He mouthed the remainder - “my love,” because he had shared all he wished to with his slack-jawed swamp-mates. 

Klinger heard (he’d felt it in his touch already - this was just the cherry on top) and he smiled so winningly that the lanterns dimmed for a moment, feeling chastised by the glow of him. 

Then Klinger was gone to walk the paths of the camp - stunning as ever - and Charles smiled after him, ears deaf to the exclamations of his tentmates. He could still feel the softness of those curls. Before the night was done, he hoped to see them against the fabric of Maxwell’s pillow. 

End! 


End file.
